


Morning Sun, Burning Waffles

by ladyofstardvst



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff without Plot, a soft morning with donna, listen sometimes you just want to eat burnt waffles with the love of your life you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27339250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofstardvst/pseuds/ladyofstardvst
Summary: Love you call it, and love you make it, she recalled from a poem – one read years and years ago. All it took was one look at you, all cozy in pajamas, eyes still hazy from sleep and stifling a yawn in-between bites, for that one line to come crashing into her because – oh. This was something she thought was lost in the sea of time, and yet here it was, still entirely brand new. This contentment, these gentle moments, this kind of love.
Relationships: Donna Troy/Reader
Kudos: 1





	Morning Sun, Burning Waffles

**Author's Note:**

> another request, wow hello i am Weak for donna troy, thanks!!!!

Sometimes you wondered if quiet, reticent mornings were a myth.

Neighbors would argue, traffic screeched, thunder rumbled. Today, it was _leaves_. October arrived earlier that week, and it was kind enough to bring a brisk breeze along for the ride. It would gust, and it would howl, and it would send hosts of freshly fallen leaves to greet you with scratching against the windows.

The memory of more welcoming weather lingered in the warmth of the layered blankets you nestled into when you woke on that lovely Sunday morning. This particular day did not seem so dreary; soft sunlight trickled through curtains left open an inch or two, fell over the side of the bed usually occupied. Rumpled blankets were pushed back, pillows still askew, empty sheets creased.

Rarely did Donna get up before you, and you felt your features pull into a frown. Then you heard it – hushed cursing, dishes clinking, the radio playing softly through the apartment. Was that hazelnut you smelled? You sniffed again. _Definitely_ hazelnut.

Wrapped in a blanket, you followed the noise of breakfast being made, followed the scent of the hazelnut candle that only burned on the kitchen windowsill. Another curse met you at the doorway when you arrived, a grin easily reaching all the way to your tired eyes when you saw Donna Troy hovering over a waffle-maker, a pan of eggs sizzling on the stove beside her.

From the faint trail of smoke leaving the pan, you were pretty sure she was trying not to burn your breakfast.

Quiet laughter spilled from your lips, and Donna froze, spatula in hand.

“You do realize,” she said, moving a steaming waffle to a plate. “It’s hard to make someone breakfast in bed when they’re not, you know, _actually_ _in bed_.”

She left the counter, and – still half asleep herself, you realized – pressed a steaming mug into your hands. Pulled you in for a gentle kiss. Your heart fluttered when she turned back to cooking, and hummed along to the radio.

“Deepest apologies,” you smiled into the mug, heard her laugh mingle with the melody.

“Yeah,” you could hear the smile in Donna’s voice. Oh, how it _dripped_ with sarcasm. “You sound _so_ sorry.”

The ascending sunlight streamed through the windows as you curled up at the table, blanket and all. It had the room glowing honey gold, and this. . .this felt like a dream. You enjoyed the serene silence with only the radio to break it, laughed when Donna threatened to banish you back to bed if you didn’t stop trying to help her cook. Felt your heart soar when she was as carefree as this, when you realized how unburdened your lives had become while you were here, together.

She stepped into the path of the sun to reach the coffeemaker, but she had a halo this time, with cascading hair illuminated by light and peace and something _other_. Her wings were tucked away today, it seemed, but she didn’t need them. She never needed the glitz and the glory for you to always feel at home with her, in this life you made from the ashes that were at your feet, once upon a time.

Donna Troy thought the very same of you.

 _Love you call it, and love you make it_ , she recalled from a poem – one read years and years ago. All it took was one look at you, all cozy in pajamas, eyes still hazy from sleep and stifling a yawn in-between bites, for that _one line_ to come crashing into her because – _oh_.

This was something she thought was lost in the sea of time, and yet here it was, still entirely brand new. This contentment, these gentle moments, this kind of love.

October had arrived with a chill that breathed beauty on this city, but all the warmth you would ever need, could be found right here, right now, eating kind-of burnt waffles with someone you loved.


End file.
